


The Disinterested Recruit

by FoiblePNoteworthy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Classism, Gen, Misgendering, Trans Peter Parker, a traditional spidey would have been team cap, accidental misgendering, and the films act like its not a thing, but he should be a lot more panicked about Tony finding out, not sure why it just sorta happened like that, peter protecting his secret identity is supposed to be a huge theme in the comics, srsly this is just salt, still salty about civil war, than he is in CACW, writing it was very cathartic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22364518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoiblePNoteworthy/pseuds/FoiblePNoteworthy
Summary: Tony heads to Queens to pick up a new recruit.Said new recruit doesn't appreciate the man made of money who does no work ever insulting his own efforts and suit, and isn't all interested in joining up.Basically Peter yells at Tony because of like... Classism? Just watch the scene, man, Tony's so rude to Pete considering he's a newbie with limited resources that he's asking for a favour.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker and the Defenders (mentioned), but not like they like each other i guess
Comments: 40
Kudos: 431
Collections: Finished111





	The Disinterested Recruit

**Author's Note:**

> Yo am I the only one who noticed that like every scene with Tony and Peter Tony's being a huge piece of shit? I have feelings about standard hero of the people Peter Parker being dragged into the big leagues before he's ready and basically being bought??? It's all... Yeah think of any comic book spidey - he's got morals, man! 
> 
> I've been angry about this for four years. Like I love Tom Holland and his version of Spidey, but no one ever seems to see how Tony treats him and the films never actually acknowledge what an asshole he's being to him.  
> (Most of the time I like Tony but whenever it's this I just. Ugh.)
> 
> So yeah the only changes to MCU canon are 1. Peter's involved with the other vigilantes (you've already read those fics so you know what I'm talking about) and 2. He's been at it a little longer and has more of an experienced temperament (fed by the cynical defenders, no doubt) than a fresh confused starstruck duckling temperament like he does in the film - we all know he had no idea what he was doing there or what he was fighting for.

Peter had actually been having a good day. He’d taken down the Shocker for the fifth time this month – was this some sort of record? – he’d aced his algebra exam, and had found some only slightly damaged tech in a dumpster. His photos had gone in to J.J. just before the deadline, and he’d managed to get twice his usual pay with the last-minute exclusivity.

He could take Aunt May out somewhere nice for her birthday next week, her first since… Their first with just the two of them.

(It had been so long that sometimes it was almost okay, and then something like this happened and it all came back to smack him in the face, but that wouldn’t keep him from looking after Aunt May.)

The streets looked clear enough for the moment, and his police scanner was still working so he didn’t need to worry about missing too many crimes if he skipped the odd patrol. If he went home now, he’d be able to catch a few hours sleep before he had to go back out again. He had a mob cartel to deal with tonight, maybe he could get DD in on it as well if he wasn’t too busy.

He swung (heh) through the door, and his good mood and likely his evening plans were dashed by the sight of the last person who should be sitting on the sofa next to his Aunt May.

Peter and the other locals had taken great joy in describing all the suits on the Avengers team in the worst terms possible to Matt, who then repeated the descriptions back to them but worse. Iron Man had become “an Oscar statue thingy but worse” (Jessica) with “too many pointy bits, it’s hella shiny and geometric but whatever you’re thinking, it’s worse” (Deadpool) which “floats because he’s even shorter than Peter (no offence) and is clearly compensating”(Frank). Matt in return described a “lump of gold but it’s ultra-gold so it’s even more expensive for no reason whatsoever, shaped into a man by an unskilled sculptor who’s only half sure of what a man looks like, dusted with a terrible goatee and seven-hundred dollar band tees designed for divorced fathers.”

(Afterwards, they’d watched the Emperor’s New Groove and focused on describing every character each time they’d shown up on screen, everyone trying to one-up each other. Matt had looked thoroughly confused for the entire night, but that might have been more to do with how they’d got the TV into his apartment in the first place.)

With Matt’s unreadable expression and not-exactly-wrong description in mind, Peter turned to face the worst person on Earth.

“Hello, Parker,” said the man who probably set hundred-dollar bills on fire for fun. Peter noted the missing title (deliberate lack of gendering him) and tried not to be too offended - he wasn't really out yet, but if he was here for what he thought he was he had to have at least an idea of what was going on.

“What?” Peter blinked, trying not to panic at the sight of him. What did he want from him? His blood? Did he know about the others? (If he knew about Peter he had to know about the others.)

With everything that had been happening lately with the Sokovia Accords – at least, what he understood from Matt’s translations of the legalese – this was the worst time to be a vigilante. The only thing worse than being a vigilante right now, was being one with a public identity, no resources, and the cops still shooting at you because half the city was crooked, and the other half was scared.

Peter was so fucked.

“Wh- what are you doing here?” he settled on, trying to look at little more starstruck than hateful. Peter would look up to Tony Stark.

Spider-Man would not.

Tony introduced himself with a smirk like they were friends for some reason, and skeeved on his Aunt like she wasn’t widowed ten months ago and still wearing her wedding ring and clearly not interested in him.

She knew this was to do with the suit, and she knew he didn’t like it. With eyes slightly wider than usual she questioned him vaguely about the grant, and he gave some lame excuse that they both knew was nonsense.

But Peter couldn’t risk her getting involved here, she’d be safer if Tony thought she knew nothing. Even if this was only half as bad as he feared that could still be really, _really_ bad.

He let Tony take him to his bedroom – and, suddenly seeing a different angle, fought off a completely different type of panic.

(Steel beams bending under his fingers; accidentally breaking Wade’s hand, then doing it on purpose at the other’s request to get a feel of how the bones moved. He could look after himself.)

There were easier people for Tony to have gone for if that was what he was after.

So it wasn’t. So he was fine.

Well, no, he wasn’t fine, the worst person in New York probably knew his secret identity (he couldn’t deny it; he knew there was no other reason the man would be here) and could be about to blackmail him into signing the accords, or giving up his friends identities, or this could be part of his plot to capture him and bring him in for having illegal genetic mutations, or-

“As walnut date-loafs go,” Tony said, spitting in his bin, as if Aunt May had really wanted to waste her food on him when Peter was burning calories. “That wasn’t bad.”

Peter curled his fists and resolved to at least find out what he wanted before he started spewing insults.

“Retro-tech!” Tony fingered the computer he’d built from scratch, and had spent the last five years replacing broken parts with slightly-less-broken parts, with love and care and attention and endless hours of searching and research. “Thrift store? Salvation Army?”

 _Well, not all of us own tech companies._ “The dumpster actually, it’s-”

“You’re a dumpster diver.” _Will you let me speak?_

“Yeah, it was…” _don’t bother explaining yourself to him,_ “Look, I definitely did not apply for your gra-”

“Nuh-uh, me first.” _And fuck you, too._

“Quick question of the rhetorical variety,” he held up his phone, which played some holographic image of Peter swinging around, “That’s you.”

 _Fuck._ He was here for that, then. There hadn’t been any doubt, but he’d held some nugget of hope that it was _something_ else he wanted.

“Uh, no,” he tried, uselessly.

Tony ignored his attempt to get him to _leave it alone_. He clearly didn’t care that Peter wanted his identity to remain a secret, even when he told him as directly as he could to drop it.

“Look at you go.” The video kept going. “Nice catch, not easy. You’ve got mad skills.”

…he was trying to butter him up. He wanted something from him, and was trying out the nice guy routine first. Probably assumed that the nerdy teenager would be all over him, that he wouldn’t have to try at all to get him on his side.

But what, exactly, does he want?

“You know those videos are faked, right?” He denied badly. _You try to manipulate the naïve teen; I play the naïve teen._ “It’s all done on a computer.”

He slipped past Tony to his computer, sending a quick ‘potential emergency’ text to the group chat to let them know to be on their guard. The second he got away from Tony, he could go see them, explain the situation.

Assuming he got the chance to get away from him. There was no way he could run from him when his Aunt was still here.

On that note… He fired off a quick text to her to get out of the building and call Wade or Frank to escort her somewhere, and not tell him where. That was the best he could do to protect her. If the others were compromised as well, he’d have only made it worse.

At least they’d definitely know what was going on, if something happened to Peter.

“Like those UFO’s over Phoenix?” Tony asked in the background, clearly not really listening to him, sounding sure about his control of the situation, which would be almost good if he hadn’t actually had the upper hand.

“Yeah,” Peter, only half-listening himself, focused on his spider-sense, which only tingled vaguely, which was… good? Hopefully.

Or Tony had some way to nullify it, which was also entirely a possibility. He swallowed at the thought. He’d been learning to fight from the others, but still relied heavily on his early warning system.

_~~(He was so fucked.)~~ _

“Whoa!” Tony crowed at his suit as he knocked it out of the ceiling.

Peter snagged it to hide it in the laundry basket. Too late to deny what it was, but maybe quick enough to keep the billionaire (no one on earth needed that much money, regardless of what they did with it) from disparaging Melvin’s hard work with the few resources they had, and scruffy look that came from the constant wear-and-tear of actually _working_ on a regular basis.

(He’d cried when Melvin got him the suit with the binder already fitted in and how was it so comfortable and how did he fit in the voice modulator? He didn’t sound or look all wrong anymore, and he didn’t have to dress all baggy or pay attention to how he spoke so no one could find out he was… still working on some things.

Everything about the suit was so perfect _(“you just look like you’ve got big pecs, Spidey”),_ and everyone had got together to celebrate with pizza and soda and Chinese food (and how did they even get it onto the roof in the first place?) and they’d patrolled together the whole night and scared the shit out of everyone they saw…

That was the day he’d decided on Peter Benjamin.)

“So,” Tony said, stepping towards him, nearly getting into his space. “You're the Spider…Ling”

_Fuck you._

“Spider-Boy? I gotta say that’s some commitment to a secret identity, pretending to be a boy, really threw me off for a bit…”

Peter tamped down the urge to shout out _‘I_ am _a boy!’_ , but he had plenty of practice at _that_ , at least. It would be easier to handle the casual misgendering if he pretended it was an accident – there was no need to give him ammunition. Well, _more_ ammunition.

“So what?” Tony was still talking; _did he ever stop?_ “Spider-Girl? Spi-”

“Spider- _Man_ ,” he corrected, letting out a little of his annoyance, hoping the guy would just get the idea and _move on_.

Tony gave him a once over and Peter wanted to crawl out of his skin. “Not in that onesie you’re not.”

That wasn’t the worst thing he could have said. It was still an incredibly shitty thing to say.

“It’s not a onesie,” he said, voice too high to growl like he wanted it to. “Just because I’m not a billionaire with access to more resources than anyone else on the planet – do you have any idea how much work went into making this suit? Scrimping and saving and weeks of actually building it - this is armour and it’s expensive and I need it because I don’t _have_ health insurance!”

Tony looked like he’d slapped him. Good.

“You just showed up here without an invitation to perv on a widow and make fun of a poor kid and mock my friends’ efforts! What – just because you’re rich and famous I should be bending over backwards while you stand here and insult me and everything I stand for?”

He felt like he should stop, like he was likely to regret what he’d said, but he wasn’t sure that he would.

“Just tell me what you’re here for.”

And that cocky confidence slipped back into his expression. “I want to offer you a suit.”

“Like fuck you do,” he said, wiping the expression back off again, ignoring the chant of _don’t antagonise him_ going off in the back of his head. “Do you think I don’t watch the news? You’ve got shit to be doing right now – this is the worst time to be doing this unless there’s something else you’. Plus, I’ve been around for months and this is the first time you show up?”

He watched the gears shift behind Tony’s eyes as he adjusts his stance. “The Avengers are always recruiting; I was wondering if you were interested.” He gave Peter a winning smile, like a card player laying down a straight flush.

Peter set fire to the card table. “I’m not, thanks.” He gave a little smile of his own. “If that’s all, I’d like you to leave now. I have a gang to take down tonight.”

Tony blinked, wrong-footed, but not seeming angry. That was good. “Kid, this is the _Avengers._ Biggest and best in the business-”

“And at war with each other right now, if I’m not mistaken. Thus your sudden need for back-up.” Peter opened his door, gesturing for Tony to leave. The man didn’t move. “And you’re hardly the best in the business; half your villains were created by the Avengers, and you never do anything to help people until there’s another world-ending threat. So - what? You do your job two or three times a year?

Peter walked forwards, getting into Tony’s space. It was satisfying to be at eye level with the man, even at the cost of lifts _(no, they’re not heels, they don’t even make the noise)_ in his shoes. “Do you know how many crimes – muggings, car theft, rape – I’ve stopped within a block of the Avengers tower?” He resisted the urge to poke his chest a few times to emphasise his point. “Because I sure as shit don’t, but I’ve never seen any of your lot patrolling night after night after night to help people, and you actually _have_ the resources to do it!”

Sick of the man staying _in his bedroom_ , and knowing how scared Aunt May and everyone else on the group chat had to be right then, he grabbed his wrist and started to pull him out of his room. At this stage, he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get dragged off to some underground lab or press-ganged into joining a government-run murder group, so wasn’t too worried about pissing him off.

(And if it did end up being the case, he wanted to have at least said his piece. He couldn’t stop now.)

“Kid,” Tony tried again, heels in the carpet no match for Peter’s own strength, “Just wait a minu-”

“Nope!” Peter said, taking a little too much pleasure in interrupting him. “It’s my turn to talk.”

He waited until they were in the main room before he continued. “I’m already part of a team and doing what I want to be doing. The absolute last thing I want to be involved with is the group that destroyed New York and left it in this state to begin with.”

He raised his arms in a _look at everything_ gesture. “You know why there are hundreds of vigilantes in New York and nowhere else? The Battle of New York! Everyone lost their jobs, their families and friends; everyone had ridiculous medical debt that they’d never be able to get back-”

“It’s not our fault that that’s where it happened!” Tony shouted, finally able to make an argument.

“I know that!” Peter shouted back at him. “But it is your fault it wasn’t fixed. You’re running around in your billion-dollar Power Ranger cosplay while the people of the city you _lived in_ and _helped to destroy_ starved and stole on the streets a block away from you. Every penny you sent in the system went into mob pockets because you just threw money at the problem and didn’t bother keeping an eye on it.”

Peter threw his hands in the air. “You’re a businessman! You know better than that!”

Tony rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He sighed. “I hear you, kid, I dropped the ball there-”

“People are dead! You haven’t done anything since it got out that Fisk was taking your money. Just left the city rotting while _we_ clear up the gangs _you’ve_ been funding.”

“I’ll fix it!”

“When? You’ve had months and done fuck all! Go and _actually do that_ instead of… whatever it is you’re up to. I’m not sure that I really care. I’m assuming it’s politics you created by being an idiot that’ll still give all of us _here_ more shit than it ever could give you.”

Peter was sure he had more things he needed to shout at him (what if Matt was listening right now? Would he be proud?) but his mind had gone blank.

Tony took a step back towards the door to leave. “For what it’s worth kid, I’m sorry. Didn’t realise-”

“Yeah, that’s because you’ve been doing jack shit for the city.” Peter wasn’t about to accept an apology that half-assed, not for the amount of shit that guy was to blame for. “’Sorry’ doesn’t bring the crime rates back down to a sane level. It doesn’t bring my Uncle back from the dead – a mugger,” he added, when Tony looked like he was about to blame someone else for the Battle, _again,_ “Who lost his job and his wife during the Battle of New York.

“’Sorry’,” he started again, because he still wasn’t done, “Didn’t let me go to my high school junior prom and be a normal kid because I have to take responsibility for a city _you_ fucked up.”

He sniffed, then decided he might as well throw some more _‘I am a baby-teenage-child’_ guilt at Tony – because he _knew_ that his age was why he’d gone for him specifically, he’d expected Peter would go all starry-eyed and do whatever he asked him to without question, and that was _slimy_ enough in-and-of itself, taking advantage of a kid’s still growing morals and confusion about the world.

“I’d managed to ask Liz to come with me,” he said. “I’d had a crush on her for ages but could never tell her. But her dad was the super-villain and I had to go fight him and she had to move away after that. I almost died that night.”

He grit his teeth in anger and regret and frustration. As long as this life was hanging over him, he would never be able to be normal. “This shouldn’t be my responsibility. This shouldn’t have happened in the first place. I want to go to school and have friends and be normal without feeling this crippling guilt because I have the ability and therefore the responsibility to help people.”

He looked up at Tony, giving some more little-kid-puppy-dog-eyes, just to push the knife in further. “How do _you_ manage that guilt? Is it worse when you don’t do anything with it?”

“Kid-”

“Don’t you have stuff to do?” Peter snapped, finally feeling done, crossing his arms and looking at the wall. Dismissed.

When he looked up, Tony was gone.

Maybe he’d think about what Peter had said.

Maybe he’d go and get into whatever stupid fight he wanted to get into and wouldn’t think past it.

Maybe he’d sue him for saying something mean. He’d win, too.

Peter was tired.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comment please and thank you - or don't i wrote this in like one sitting it might suck but it's done and that's the main thing  
> (I'm sorry I sat down to work on my ongoing series and this just came out instead I don't know how.)  
> So while Tony's probably not as bad as Peter thinks he is here, and he's defo doing some behind the scenes work on stuff, from Peter's perspective... Like, Peter's been doing a lot more visible active work and let's face it he gets treated pretty shittily by most folks (police, J.J., etc) while the Avengers get a free ride and that's gotta sting.  
> I've always been kinda disappointed that something like this never came up, because a worldwide class war between the street vigilantes (working longer and with higher risks with no benefits at all) and the Superheroes (funded, medical care, beloved, don't seem to be doing all that much, keep making their own villains) always seemed really interesting to me. If anyone knows any marvel comics with this sort of conflict please let me know.  
> Or if anyone has any suggestions for more stuff in this theme tell me and I might do it when I have the time


End file.
